


Alone

by Elfflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, M/M, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-19
Updated: 2004-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/pseuds/Elfflame





	Alone

**Alone**

By Elf Flame

It had been a miserable year so far, and Draco just wanted to hide from the world.  Father was gone.  He had escaped from Azkaban before the summer had even been over, but Draco had yet to hear from him.  He had never gone so long without hearing something from him.  And Snape had been so busy that he had been unwilling to pamper Draco as much as he had in the past.

It was all that Potter’s fault.  Why wouldn’t the git just die already?  Then everything could be the way it was supposed to be.  Purebloods would be revered as they should be, and mudbloods would be put in their place.  Excluded from attending Hogwarts, unable to take the best jobs from their betters, and unable to exist without the patronage of a pureblood, who would be held responsible for their mistakes.  And as for the Muggles, well, they would all be herded onto reserves so that they would no longer be a bother.  But that stupid prat kept fighting.  Why wouldn’t he just lie down and give up already?

It wasn’t enough that the idiot had lead Diggory to his death during the Tri-Wizard Tournament; practically killed the boy himself; but then last year he had gone and endangered all his friends in one of his escapades.  According to some rumors, he had lost his godfather as well, not to mention sending Draco’s father to Azkaban.  Then, shortly after the new school year had started, the werewolf’s body had been found, nearly mangled beyond recognition just inside the Hogwarts grounds.  And Potter had lost it.  He’d spent two weeks in a private room in the hospital wing, seeing no one aside from the headmaster.

When he’d returned to school, the grim look that he’d occasionally worn before had somehow become plastered there permanently.  And nothing Draco had done had affected him any more.

And that was the worst.  Before, the one thing Draco had been assured of was a reaction from Potter.  Now there was nothing.  He could call Granger Mudblood till he was blue in the face, and Potter would blink at him grimly, then turn away, and his two flunkies followed as though Draco had not said a word.  And when he insulted Weasley, Granger would restrain Weasley until Potter pulled them off down the hall and away from Draco.  Even the insult that had worked so well last year about Potter’s mum no longer seemed to have any effect.

So what was a bored Slytherin missing his father supposed to do?  He’d worked his way through the available Slytherin girls.  None of them were much of a challenge, really, and most were overly clingy.  Bulstrode, in particular had been quite scary in her tenacity.  He’d even given Blaise a chance, but the boy was worse than Millicent.  He’d thought of moving on to the rest of the school, but really, there wasn’t anyone in the school who caught Draco’s attention.  Not aside from Potter, anyway, and there was no way he’d do that with Potter, after all.  Not that he was bad looking or anything, but who needed a do-gooder as a lover?  He’d probably be just as clingy as Blaise.

He’d also given a few thoughts to the teachers, but aside from Snape, none of them were worth giving even a thought to.  The latest DADA was almost as bad as McGonagall, and twice as old.  Draco could not think about him with any sexual connotation without shuddering.  Snape, though, was worth giving more than a few thoughts to.  He was tall, slender, quite well-built, and actually rather attractive, for a man who never seemed to wash his hair.  But Draco knew he had no chance there.  Snape was hardly the type to sleep with a student.  Not because of the rules, but because he saw students as little more than a nuisance, even Draco.  Draco had tried to get his attention that way once or twice, and the look that Snape had shot him each time had quickly quelled any thought that Snape might ever be willing to return his affections.

So what was left?  Lovely images as he wanked off in the Prefect’s Bathroom.  It had become his retreat after Potter had begun ignoring him.  After all, there was nothing else to do.  So, once a day, Draco found himself making his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothing, and spending an hour or two simply drowning himself in images of his deepest-hidden dreams.

He always started off imagining his favorite scenario: Snape inviting him to his rooms to tell him that his father had been found and captured by the aurors, and that Draco had been the first person he had asked for.  That they would be allowed to speak through the fire before his father was returned to Azkaban.  After Draco spoke to his father, Snape would lead him over to the couch, and hold him while he cried into the man’s shoulder, petting his back, and reassuring him that everything would be alright.  That Draco didn’t have to leave until he was ready, that he could stay all night if he wished.

At this, Draco would look into Snape’s face, and before he could say anything, Snape’s lips would descend on his.  The slide of the man’s slightly rough lips against Draco’s would make him gasp, and Snape would quickly slide that caustic, agile tongue into his mouth as his hands began to drop down Draco’s back, sliding against his robe until he reached Draco’s bottom, and pulling him onto the professor’s lap.  Those long, nimble fingers would work their way around to his front, sliding open Draco’s robe, making quick work of Draco’s belt, and the buttons holding his slacks closed.  Soon Draco would be laid out in front of him, utterly bare, and gasping for breath, and begging for more, as those lovely fingers proceeded to do their work.

Draco could practically feel Snape’s fingers ghosting over him, across his nipples, down his abdomen and sides, bypassing his straining cock, down his inner thighs…then Snape would pull his legs apart, and that lovely tongue would follow the path his fingers had taken, until Draco was writhing beneath him, begging for something, anything.

At this point in his fantasy, Draco’s hands were always well-occupied at nipples, thighs and everywhere he imagined Snape’s hands would roam, carefully avoiding his straining erection until the pressure was too great.  Then Draco would pull once at it, and come, collapsing quickly against the side of the tub, relaxing a moment before moving on to an even more treasured, more arousing scenario.  This second scenario was always of the type that he would have been horrified if anyone had learned.  All involving someone who refused to speak to him.

He had been interrupted once, though the fifth year had been quick to run from the room when he realized who was occupying the bath.  Draco’s hands hadn’t stopped moving, and his eyes had only opened to silts to make sure that the little insect had left.  After that, Draco had put a charm on the door that would shock anyone who tried to enter.  It was enough.  He hadn’t been interrupted since.

So, when he entered the room one evening to discover Potter simply sitting there, waiting, Draco was a touch taken aback.  He regained his composure quickly, and smirked at the other boy.  “Forgotten how to use a bathroom, Potter?  Well, living with those Muggles, I’m not surprised.  They probably still use outhouses, don’t they?  Or do they just go into the woods to relieve themselves?  Would you like me to show how to use the facilities?”

Potter snorted and stood, then moved across the room, much faster than Draco would have given him credit for being able to.  He stood barely a foot from Draco, his lip curled in a sneer.  “I’ve heard things, Malfoy.”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things, boy wonder.  So?”

 “I’ve heard that you come in here and wank.  Is that true?”

 “And if it is?  What’s it to you, Potter?  Not hurting anyone am I?”

Potter was silent at this, instead stepping back a pace to run his eyes up and down Draco’s form.  Draco had never felt quite so naked before.  And he was fully dressed.  Imagine how much worse it would be to actually be naked before Potter.

Draco stepped back to open the door behind him, but Potter’s hand shot out to catch him before he moved more than a step away, and Draco found himself pulled against Potter.

 “I don’t think so, Malfoy.  I think you’ll be staying right here with me.”

 “Oh?” Draco hissed as he tried to pull away from Potter’s grasp.  “Why would I want to do that, Potter?” he spat.

For the first time in many months, a smile spread across Potter’s face, and soon Draco forgot to struggle, finding himself lost in those violently green eyes.  “Because, Malfoy,” Potter grinned, “I know the images you wank off to.  And I happen to know exactly how Snape would deal with you if he found out.”

This worried Draco.  He couldn’t.  He was bluffing—wasn’t he?  He had to be, Draco thought to himself, because if he wasn’t why was he bringing up Snape instead of that other?  He managed to jerk himself from Potter’s grip before responding.  “You don’t know anything, Potter.  You couldn’t lie your way out of a paper bag.”

Potter’s grin grew wider.  “Oh, I’m not lying--Draco.”  The name came out in a whisper, barely an inch from Draco’s ear.  He could feel the hot swirl of Potter’s breath against his skin, and swallowed.

“Prove it.”  It came out in a breath, more quiet than Potter’s whisper, but he heard it, and those hands that had been holding him in place began to slide down Draco’s sides.

“How would you like me to prove it, Draco?  Which fantasy about me did you come here to think about tonight?  Which one should I fulfill?  Or should I just work my way through the catalogue?” he smirked.

Draco’s eyes slid closed of their own accord.  It would be a terrifying thing if Snape discovered his little obsession, but really, this was a hundred times worse.  Potter knew.  And where Snape might have derided him for his weakness, Potter would use it against him.  Worse, Draco wanted Potter—Harry to use it.  And Harry knew that, too.

But he wasn’t about to give in without a struggle.  His eyes snapped open, and he glared at the other boy.  Far too close for Draco’s tastes.  “Get out of my face, Potter,” he growled.  “You know nothing.”

But Harry just grinned.  “Ah, I was hoping you’d want to play that one out…”  His hand, still circled around Draco’s elbow, slid down his arm, and then across his belly, eventually brushing his burgeoning erection.  Draco tried to pull away, but Harry’s other hand caught him, and he was pulled against Harry, who looked down at him with a leer.  “So, I assume that this,” he brushed Draco’s erection once more, “is just a fluke, then?”

Draco shuddered, but leaned into the caress.  Harry laughed a low laugh.  “My, you don’t seem to be pushing me away any more, Draco.”

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco managed to his through clenched teeth.  It was all he could do to keep from moaning.

“Wrong, Draco.  I’m the one who’s going to be doing the fucking tonight.  You’re the one who’s fucked,” he grinned.

Draco twisted in his arms, but only managed to become entangled in Harry’s embrace.  “You wish, Potter.  The only thing that will be happening here is a boot to your head, as you seem to have entirely lost all your senses.”

“Oh, really, Draco?”  And then Draco found himself pulled up to Harry’s front, facing out, so that he could no longer see the other boy’s face.  This would have been a relief, but this also meant that Harry’s erection was suddenly grinding between his cheeks.  Draco gasped.  “Please,” he breathed.

Harry’s laugh rumbled through Draco’s chest, and he felt his cheeks heat.  “Please what, Draco?  I can’t read your mind, after all.”

Draco found that Harry’s grip had loosened, and he was able to turn back and face him.  He licked his lips and brought his gaze up to meet Harry’s, swallowing.  He knew Harry wouldn’t make this easy for him, but this was a Harry Potter he’d never truly believed existed.  But if he did, wasn’t it worth it, even if it was only for this one night, and never again?  Because dreaming of Snape was indulging a fantasy that he never expected to come to pass.  But Harry…he was something else entirely.  His fondest wish.  A wish that he had been just as certain could never be because they were on opposite sides.  Always had been.  Always would be.

Or not.  Because Harry was here, and his lips were so close…  He threw himself forward before he could change his mind, and crushed his lips to Harry’s.

And Harry was soon returning the favor, lips demanding every bit of Draco’s concentration.  And soon Draco was lost.  He couldn’t recall just why this was wrong, but he wanted it, and damned if he’d let anyone take it from him.  Had he been more aware, he might have been ashamed of the sounds that came out of his mouth.  As it was, he was only aware of the slide of skin, lips teeth and tongue.  Of the taste of him, warm, golden and sweet, and of the feeling of Harry’s laughter as it filled his mouth.

He did not notice when Harry stripped his clothes from his body.  He was only vaguely aware of Harry’s own clothing beginning to disappear, as he ran his hands along Harry’s arms and down his back.  Then Harry was gone, and there was the sound of running water filling the room.  Draco blinked a moment before moving to stand next to Harry, who had turned several taps, including one that Draco was particularly fond of, which filled the tub with silver bubbles that glistened with a rainbow sheen just before they broke.

He didn’t want to destroy the sudden acceptance between them, but he simply could not stop himself from asking.  “Why?”

Those green eyes were sharp as they met his.  “Why not?” Harry answered.

Draco couldn’t quite stop his chin from tilting up at this, nor the sharpness in his tone as he answered.  “Because we hate each other.”

Harry smirked.  “Do we?  Then what exactly was all that kissing about, hm?”

Draco was silent for a moment.  His lips twitched unable to hide entirely the smile that was desperate to emerge.  “Well, we are rather passionate about our…dislike of one another.”

Harry laughed again and pulled Draco to him.  “Trust me, Draco, it’ll only get more so.”  He leaned down, and kissed Draco lightly, then Draco felt himself fall, and before he could stop himself, he had plunged into the tub.  He came up sputtering.

“I’ll get you for that, Potter.”

Harry was laughing, and only grinned at this before jumping in himself and splashing Draco heavily.  Before Draco managed to recover from this, he found himself enveloped in Harry’s arms.  And those lips were near his ear again.  “I think you’ll be the one ‘getting it’ tonight, Draco,” he purred.

And before Draco could protest, Harry’s tongue was back in his mouth, and all Draco could do was simply hang on and enjoy.  Whoever had taught Harry to kiss had certainly done a thorough job of it.  Soon Harry’s fingers began to roam, and slid across Draco’s shoulders and down his back, petting and stroking as they went.  When Harry reached his hips, he pulled Draco up so that he was braced against the side of the tub, resting on the ledge that jutted out at that spot.

Harry pulled his legs open, and moved so that he was snug between them.  “Lift up, Draco.  Unless you want me to just take what I want without preparation…”

Draco looked at him, wide-eyed.  True, he’d imagined this, wanted it, in fact.  But he’d never done that before.  When he’d been with Blaise, he’d been the one on top.  He knew it would hurt, and suddenly, he wasn’t so sure anymore.  “Wait…”

Harry’s eyes flared.  “Do you want this or not, Draco?  No games.  You either cooperate and do this my way, or I leave now.  Which do you prefer?”

Draco’s hands flew out to push him away, but he was restrained easily by Harry.  “I don’t think I asked you to hit me, Draco.”

“Let go of me, Potter,” Draco snarled.

“So I’m leaving then?”  He released Draco’s wrists and pulled away, looking down at Draco with narrowed eyes.

Draco swallowed.  He couldn’t just give in.  But…Harry would leave unless he did.  “I hate you,” he hissed.

A wry smile appeared on Harry’s face.  “Feeling’s purely mutual, Draco.”  He pulled closer to Draco once more, and Draco felt his erection brush Draco’s thigh.  “Doesn’t stop me from wanting this, though.  Guess I’m as sick as you, aren’t I?” he whispered as he slid his hand across Draco’s own throbbing cock.

Draco’s eyes slid closed, and he flushed as he lifted himself up so that Harry could begin to prepare him, his face turned away from the dark-haired boy.  But when he felt the tip of Harry’s finger rub against him, all his trepidations vanished.  It felt good, and he sighed at the contact.  Then, before he could get used to the feeling, it was suddenly inside him.  Draco gasped at the burn, but it quickly faded, replaced by a curl of heat that went straight to his cock.  “More,” he gasped.

And there was that laugh again.  He could definitely learn to love that laugh.  “Ah, my beautiful Slytherin slut.  I knew you would be, Draco.  You have no shame at all, do you?”

Draco shook his head vigorously, his eyes still closed, though he could feel his cheeks flush.  Then there was another finger.  Draco took a deep breath and opened his eyes.  This was a Harry he had only ever imagined before.  Smiling down at him, wanting him, it was almost too much.  Draco slid his legs further apart, and Harry’s fingers went deeper, suddenly brushing against something inside him that made the light flare, and Draco had to close his eyes again to remember how to breathe.

And then the fingers were gone, but before he could protest their absence, something much larger was pushing into him, and he wanted to protest, to tell Harry that it was much too large, that it was ripping him in half, but Harry’s mouth was on his again, and Draco could do no more than whine into it.

Once he was all the way inside Draco, Harry pulled away, and Draco grunted at the movement.  For the first time that evening, the boy that looked down at him was the one he remembered from six years of school together.  “Are you all right?  I won’t move until you are.”

Harry’s hesitance angered Draco, and he snarled, “Just move, Potter.  I’m not breakable.”

And then the dark Harry Draco had come to know that evening was back.  “Fine.  Just scream if I’m hurting you, slut.”  And he began to move.  The first jabs were painful, but then Harry hit that spot again, and Draco melted with each thrust that brushed it.

And soon he was screaming, but not to stop him.  He was sure he would blush about it later, but now all he wanted was more.  More Harry, and harder.  He moaned and thrust back onto Harry’s cock, trying to get it to go deeper.  It wasn’t enough.  And then Harry’s hand was on Draco’s cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, and all Draco could do was ride the wave as it crashed over him and he came shouting Harry’s name.

He felt Harry shake above him, thrust one last time, and felt his cock twitch inside him as he came with a groan and a whispered, “Mine.”

Draco’s eyes grew wide at that, and all he could manage was a hoarse, “What?”

Harry’s eyes opened, and he watched Draco for several minutes before answering.  “You’re mine.  No one else’s.  I’ve claimed you, Draco.  You might try to run away, but you’ll never be free of me now.”  He sneered down at the boy he was still attached to. “Even Snape can’t have you anymore.  I was here first.  And you’ll never be able to forget it.”  He smiled bitterly and pulled away from Draco, pulling a gasp from him.

Draco watched him go for a moment, not quite sure what he had heard.  Had Harry just done this to claim him?  But no, Harry had said ‘no games.’  So what was this about, then?  “Harry?” the name felt odd falling from his lips with the other boy actually in the room, when he was actually in control of his faculties.

Harry turned around but his face was closed.  “Yes?”

“Why?”  Harry hadn’t really answered the first time.

“I heard that you—did this, and figured I’d just come in and watch.  Maybe you’d give something away that I could use.”  He looked away.  “I didn’t realize it would be me.  So I went, and I thought about it.  And the more I thought about it the more I realized how much I liked the idea.  And how angry it had made me when it had been Snape’s name falling from your lips instead of mine.”  He turned back to face Draco.  “You have two choices, Draco.  We can forget anything happened tonight, go back to the way things were before…”

Draco waited, but Harry seemed to be unwilling to say more, so Draco pulled himself from the tub and moved to his side.  “Or?”

And then Harry was smiling at him in a way he’d only seen him smile at his Gryffindor pals.  A smile that he hadn’t seen since the werewolf’s body had been found.  Like just asking for the other option made it more likely to occur.

Harry stepped towards him and brushed a hand across his cheek.  “Or we try this out.  Try being friends outside this room.  Stop hating each other.  Is that even possible?”

Draco didn’t let himself stop and think.  After all, how long had he wanted this boy?  He nodded, and their lips crashed together.  This was worth it.  This was better than anything he’d had before.  Better than a father who had never had time for him anyway.  Better than a professor who had a whole house to worry about, not to mention several classes of students to deal with.  Just him and Harry.  And maybe, just maybe, this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 _Fin_


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